


the undone and the divine

by frenchleaves



Series: who when young would run like a storm (skts) [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Finger Sucking, Grinding, Haikyuu!! Manga Spoilers, Hair-pulling, I Wrote This While Listening to Hozier's Music, M/M, Miya Atsumu is a Little Shit, NSFW, Post-Time Skip, Resolved Sexual Tension, SakuAtsu NSFW Week 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:29:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26463439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frenchleaves/pseuds/frenchleaves
Summary: Oh,Atsumu thinks, his brain starting to become incoherent,I want those fingers in my mouth.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Series: who when young would run like a storm (skts) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1924927
Comments: 7
Kudos: 275
Collections: SakuAtsu NSFW Week





	the undone and the divine

**Author's Note:**

> hi lmao this is for sakuatsu nsfw week day 1 which is hair pulling and "I love seeing you worked up" but I added finger sucking bc i'm venting and i'm horny that's it.
> 
> no beta i just wanted to participate uwu.

> Sweating our confessions  
>  The undone and the divine
> 
> – _ **Bedroom Hymns** , Florence + The Machine_

Even after closing the shower tap, water drips down the drain, each drop echoing in the empty showers of the MSBY shared changing rooms. Shaking his head against the towel to dry his hair and any remnants of sleep, Atsumu thanks how early he is to morning practice so he can bask under the warm water of the douches in the building, his muscles relaxing in delight. The pressure simply is amazing, and the baths are cleaned every night, which is more than what Atsumu’s shower provides. 

It has become a ritual of sorts, showering before practice. This way, his muscles are already warm enough so that warm ups are swift and he can get to practicing faster, but especially because this early in the morning, there is only another person who is crazy enough to come practice before sunrise. 

Stepping away from the shower, Atsumu wraps the towel around his waist, and moves towards his locker. Sakusa is already dressed, stretched fabric over his muscles and shorts snug against his tights, and looks extremely bored, tapping at something on his phone. His white mask is firmly over his nose, and his hair heavy with residual moisture. If Atsumu were a weaker man, he would say that Sakusa looks like white marble, a sculpture of soft and clear skin, looking down on them over his self-established pedestal. However, Atsumu is anything  _ but _ weak, so he huffs and turns to his locker, feeling Sakusa’s set of eyes look over his back, which he very much ignores. He swiftly puts on his boxers and shorts, and sets the towel up in a hanger so it dries for his after-practice shower. Atsumu still feels Sakusa’s gaze on his back, almost glaring into him by sheer power of manifestation, and the tapping on the phone’s screen has all but stopped. On cue, Atsumu decides to turn around, meeting the other man’s gaze through his eyelashes, eyes dropping as a taunting smile appears on his face. He sees Sakusa narrow his eyes, and huffs out a laugh. “What? If you like my back that much you can just take a picture, Omi-kun. Ya phone’s right there.”

“Miya,” Sakusa deadpans, distaste evident in his voice, even though his eyes tell an entirely different story, giving the man what could only be defined as a check out. “What are you, five?”

“Nope!” Atsumu exclaims as annoyingly as he can as he turns back to his locker, grabbing a white shirt and closing the metal door with a thud. There is nothing he likes more than bringing Sakusa to the verge of his sanity, especially as he gets first row seats on the fire behind dark eyes that threaten to destroy Atsumu’s entire presence with a bunch of bleach or whatever it is he uses to clean. “Last I knew, I was twenty-three.” 

Placing the phone gently on the bench he sits, Sakusa stands up and steps towards Atsumu, still keeping his personal space yet infringing upon Atsumu’s like an artist with a chisel would upon a slab. He wonders to himself why he finds it this hot, considering how normal this scene is for the both of them. There is something in the static air surrounding them, and Atsumu desperately wants to know what goes through Sakusa’s fastidious brain. The man takes another step towards him, but Atsumu keeps his ground. It’s not him that has a problem with boundaries, and the one that does keeps closing the gap between their bodies as if pulled by the magnetic center of the blonde’s core. Sakusa stops just a mere amount of centimeters away from Atsumu, and glares down at him, their height different brandished like a weapon. The change in the air, Atsumu then concludes, has to have been building up over the past weeks after Sakusa had been incorporated into the team. Otherwise, he would have been more surprised when Sakusa pushes down his mask and inhibitions this close to another person, and maybe it’s just because he knows for a fact that Atsumu has finished showering mere moments ago. Atsumu now has a full view of the lower half of Sakusa’s face, and this close he can notice another small mole on the left side of his chin, right below his lower lip. This immediately makes his mouth dry, and moves to meet Sakusa’s gaze once more. This close, he sees the contrast of long, black, eyelashes against porcelain skin, but instead of being jealous, he feels something in his lower belly that he can quickly put a name to. 

“You are so dumb, Miya,” Sakusa states clearly, hands hesitantly floating in front of his chest, as if inhibiting their movement lest they do something stupid. Atsumu could relate, if he had any kind of filter to his movements. 

His right hand still grasps the white shirt, but the other one grasps at Sakusa’s, taking it boldly and placing it against his cheek. Atsumu sees Sakusa blush from his neck and the tips of his ears, and Atsumu knows for a fact that he must not look that different. For as boldly as he moves, he still is a simple man with simple desires and reactions. Considering so, it’s not a surprise that he moves to close the gap between them, but Sakusa stops him with a hand placed flush against his chest, pushing him back against the lockers. 

“Did you brush your teeth?”

“Omi-kun, keep ya priorities in check!” Atsumu all but shrieks, head falling back with a clang against the metal of the lockers. 

An eyebrow lifts, and Sakusa’s forehead wrinkles like that of an old man’s.  _ So much for perfect skin _ , Atsumu traitorously thinks, eyes now drawn to the two moles, hand instinctively coming up to graze against them, white shirt forgotten on the bench right beside them. Sakusa inhales sharply, and this close, Atsumu can see his pupils dilate with a quickness he would have never expected. Voice much lower and raspier, Sakusa mutters, “So, did you?”

Atsumu fights the urge to groan, but answers nonetheless. “Of course I did, idiot–”

For someone so against human contact, Sakusa kisses with a passion that speaks of experience, which grates weirdly against Atsumu. How many people has Sakusa kissed? Wasn’t this dumbass afraid of touching anyone? Thoughts of jealousy hit loudly against Atsumu’s brain, and he desperately pushes them out in favor of pushing his tongue into Sakusa’s, testing the boundaries of a man set on pushing everyone away. The hand that had been against his chest moves to fix his waist against the lockers, and the one that had been interlocked with Atsumu on the blonde’s cheek moves towards his jaw, setting it upwards and into an angle where it gives Sakusa ample area to push against his open lips. With their bodies now flush, Atsumu quietly wonders which of the taunts had finally pushed Sakusa over the edge, and then he remembers the show he had put upon him on the last team outing, sucking his index and thumb over and over under Sakusa’s watchful gaze, the rest of the team seemingly oblivious to the situation behind them. 

_ Oh, _ Atsumu thinks, his brain starting to become incoherent,  _ I want those fingers in my mouth. _

Vindicated, Atsumu grins against Sakusa’s mouth, pushing back now as forcefully as their kiss had started. He moves a hand to Sakusa’s nape, trying to merge the both of them into one, and with a squeeze against the side of his hip from the other man, he lets out a moan from the back of his throat. Both of their eyes shoot open, and their gazes meet purposefully, hips so close to the other’s that Atsumu can feel Sakusa’s half-hard cock flush against his leg. Sakusa’s lips are plump and wet, and Atsumu wonders what it takes to finally break an unbreakable man. Taking what he can before luck runs out, Atsumu kisses Sakusa’s lower lip with closed eyes, just where the hidden mole is, lips paving his way towards his jaw, then to the conjecture between his neck and his ear, when Sakusa releases a contented sigh and moves to kiss Atsumu on the neck, slouching to suck just above his collar bone.

“You’re surprisingly good at this,” Atsumu murmurs against his neck, and annoyance must drip from his words, as Sakusa smirks against him. 

“Mhhm,” Moving, Sakusa brings up a knee in between Atsumu’s legs, kneading softly against his crotch, which has Atsumu throwing his head back towards the metal doors. The man huffs a laugh, continuing his ministrations as he talks. “You thought I was just going to stay here and let you continue teasing me like that? You didn’t even put on a shirt,” he grasps the back of Atsumu’s head, pulling his hair, and the blonde can’t even bite back the desperate moan that passes through his lips, eyes closing in an attempt to save face. He must be dreaming at this point, because there is no way that Sakusa fucking Kiyoomi can drive Atsumu to his knees this easily. “I love seeing  _ you _ worked up, for a change.”

There is no sun coming from the outside, the warm yellow light of the locker room like a halo around Sakusa’s black hair, as Atsumu opens his eyes again. “Oh, Omi-kun, yer so sweet to me,” he states, sarcasm dripping in dulcet tones. He remembers that desperate thought about Sakusa’s long fingers as he takes Sakusa’s hand and pulls it towards his mouth, taking the index finger into the warmth of his mouth, and feels accomplished when he sees Sakusa’s eyes widen. He sucks into it with the fervor of a thousand suns, eyes rolling to the back as he moans, and feels Sakusa’s knee press further into his erection. The other man pulls his hair again, this time more forcefully, and a dam breaks within the Miya. 

Atsumu grinds against Sakusa’s leg, taking the man’s thumb into his mouth and biting softly into the ample skin of his hands. Sakusa continues to pull the strands of blonde hair, and it feels so humiliating how close Atsumu is from release, as if he still was some dumb teenager. After a particular pull of his hair, Sakusa fixes Atsumu’s face directly in front of his, eyes reaching out for some kind of understanding or emotion that Atsumu cannot think of at the moment, considering the current situation he finds himself in. Whatever it is he searches for he finds, as he breaks their stare to gaze intently into Atsumu’s mouth, who moans around his fingers with the desperation of a starving man. Atsumu sucks harder into his index and middle fingers, beckoning Sakusa to meet his eyes. After a second of looking at the blonde’s mouth, his eyes move upwards, and Atsumu raises an eyebrow, mostly a challenge.

_ What are you going to do now?  _ He silently asks, tongue circling the fingers, drool dripping obscenely from his mouth. 

The answer, apparently, is to put another finger in Atsumu’s mouth, before replacing all fingers with his mouth once again. After a moment, he moves back, a thread of spit linking them. That’s all it takes for Sakusa to break. It’s only a moment after that Sakusa seems to remember he’s a renowned athlete, and he grabs Atsumu by his ass and pushes him up against the lockers, metal clanging as Atsumu whines against Sakusa’s jaw when he grinds their hips together. 

Atsumu wraps his arms around Sakusa’s broad shoulders, fingers raking against his clothed back. He lets himself go, head tilted back to give Sakusa access to his neck, and the man bites over his collar bones, sucking a trail that hopefully will not be as visible as it would be in the middle of his neck. There is something so obscene but rightful in Sakusa letting himself go, and Atsumu feels like a temple in which Sakusa is but the minister, and hopes this is not a one time thing. It is fitting that as close as he is getting, Sakusa moving harshly but rhythmically against him as he nips at his ear, that his 6:00am alarm starts beeping from the side. 

“Agh, fuck. I forgot about that!” As any movement occurring stops, Atsumu groans against Sakusa’s shoulder, but this time not because of whatever had been going on. Sakusa lets him fall back on his legs, but thankfully holds him by the shoulders. Atsumu feels that if he had just let him go, he would have folded like a house of cards towards the floor. 

Silence follows as the alarm stops, and the two men look at each other, silent communication passing through them almost telepathically. 

“You drive me crazy,” Sakusa then states, voice sounding almost bored, and Atsumu gapes. Couldn’t he say that with a bit more of emotion, at least?

Atsumu huffs, crossing his arms. “Do I, really? Omi-kun,” he says, and his lips hurt from the kissing, neck still tingling from all the bites. He considers how the mood was killed, and grabs his shirt, quickly putting it on. Even with the mood killed, his erection is still hard, so he starts thinking about grandmas and rice so it goes away. “Ya don’t sound like it!”

“Mmh,” Sakusa crosses his arms, leaning on the lockers while maintaining eye contact with the blonde, his erection still very much visible. 

_ How shameless _ , Atsumu thinks,  _ considering how reserved and shy he normally is.  _

Maybe he had assessed Sakusa Kiyoomi wrong all the ten years they had known each other. 

The man raises an eyebrow, as if he could hear Atsumu’s thought. For a second he thinks he had said that outloud, but calms when Sakusa says nothing more and just turns back to where his phone is, picking it up. Steps can be heard from the hallway beyond the door, probably Bokuto and Hinata, who go on a run in the mornings. “Do you want me to sound more interested?” he muses, tapping at the screen, “We can talk about it after practice.” The offer falls like a threat on Sakusa’s tongue, sending a thrill down Atsumu’s spine. 

“Maybe over some wine?” Atsumu offers, if a bit desperately and excitedly. “My treat, Omi-kun.”

Sakusa smirks, and pulls his mask back on, sitting with his back against his locker, as if nothing had happened minutes prior. “Try not to sound that desperate, Miya.” he says, his bored tone not enough to hide his amusement, but nods nonetheless. Atsumu flushes, the tips of his ears colored with a blush, when the door for the changing room bursts open, the whirlwind that is Bokuto and Hinata running to the showers. Sakusa rolls his eyes at the antics, and Atsumu thanks whatever god is up there watching over him that his alarm went off mere minutes before the crazy duo burst in with their teammates making out in the locker room. 

Sakusa must have come to the same conclusion, and stands up to go to the court, but he just looks at him, as if challenging Atsumu. For what, he does not know, but at the moment his mind is still in a haze, his brain jumbled up with all his thoughts screaming  _ Sakusa _ over and over, so he does nothing but follow him out.

“I’ll look forward to it.”

**Author's Note:**

> hmu at my twitter [@shikameninist](https://twitter.com/shikameninist)


End file.
